Chapter 13

An Freagarach

OISÍN wished he had the Book of Magic with him. Without it, he felt useless. The Morrígan’s green eyes were getting closer and closer. The shadow-fish wound around his legs, trapping him in the water. Oisín couldn’t think of a single thing to do. Magic felt a lot less like electricity and more like a puzzle that he could never hope to solve.

The Morrígan’s eyes pierced into him and Oisín felt her stripping away his foolish hopes until all that was left was a terrible cold despair. He craned back his head, staring at the cavern’s ceiling. He’d look at anything to avoid the Morrígan’s gaze.

There was a layer of stalactites on the ceiling, or was it stalagmites? Oisín had never paid attention in geography class and now he was going to die without knowing the difference, which seemed a strange thing to worry about.

A thought flashed in Oisín’s brain. He looked up at the stalactite (‘c for ceiling’, that was it!) and remembered what Cliodhna had told them about freezing. If he concentrated really hard …

Concentrating was very difficult when hundreds of fish were trying to drown you. Oisín kicked them away and tried to ignore the sound of the Morrígan’s tentacles lapping through the water, getting closer and closer. He focused on the stalactite, picturing the ice in the freezer at home. The tip of the stalactite gleamed white and started to crackle. It was working. Oisín kept his gaze firm but focused. Water Magic was all about the gaze. If he could just concentrate …

The stalactite plunged from the ceiling, stabbing into the water as an icicle. It hung suspended on top of the water, and a circle of ice spread slowly around it.

‘Antimony, freeze the ceiling,’ Oisín spluttered. ‘We have to get out of this water.’

He focused on another stalactite. It created another circle of ice as it landed. Oisín kicked the shadow-fish from him and clambered up on to the ice. The shadow-fish squirmed below, pushing their dark shapes against the underside of the fragile ice. Oisín pulled Antimony up.

‘She’s getting mad,’ Antimony said, staring at the Morrígan’s green eyes, still coming towards them and flashing with irritation.

‘Don’t look at her.’

Antimony picked up one of the fallen icy stalactites and put it in her slingshot. She aimed it at a pile of loose stones. They turned white and plunged towards the ground, spreading another layer of ice across the water. Oisín felt a surge of hope. Soon the whole ceiling was snowing and ice sealed off the passage they had come in through, stopping the flow of shadow-fish and trapping the green-eyed creature under ice. For a second, Oisín felt safe.

Then he heard a tremendous crackle. Oisín and Antimony watched in horror as a tentacle shot through and the Morrígan pulled herself on to the ice. She transformed in front of their eyes, contracting her tentacles until they were part of a long black cloak, worn by the most beautiful woman Oisín had ever seen.

‘Nice try,’ the Morrígan said with a light, fluttery laugh that sent shivers into the air. ‘But you can’t ever hope to beat me. Not without your little book.’

‘You’ll never win,’ Oisín spat out.

‘Let’s see what your sister thinks about that. She’s very fond of me, you know.’

‘Leave Sorcha alone.’

Antimony pulled Oisín’s shoulder back before he could move forward. The Morrígan gave another little laugh and tossed back her black hair, which curled down her head like tentacles.

‘So brave, so young. I admire that. But no need for bravery just yet. It’s actually your friend I want to talk to.’

The Morrígan fixed her terrible eyes on Antimony. Antimony felt the fire return to her veins.

‘You want me, come and get me,’ she said, stepping forward.

The Morrígan smiled and flicked her hair. In a second, one of her curls had actually turned into a tentacle and it whipped through the air, heading for Antimony.

‘No!’

A body leapt from the side of the cavern, launching onto the Morrígan just in time and pushing her to the ground.

‘Stephen?’ Oisín gasped, staring at the figure tackling the Morrígan.

The Morrígan transformed back into her terrible stingray form, sending her long tentacles crashing across the ice. One smashed down inches from Stephen’s head.

‘It’s me she wants,’ Antimony shouted, shooting smoke out of her nostrils.

The Morrígan didn’t seem to care at that moment, and was intent on dealing with the irksome creature confronting her. She backed Stephen into a corner by the wall and raised one of her tentacles. This time she wasn’t going to miss.

It happened before Oisín had time to do anything. Stephen gripped the rock for support, the tentacle drove through the air, it landed with a sickening smack and there was a flash of light and a terrible scream.

Stephen stood up, a long stone gleaming in his hand. The Morrígan’s tentacle lay slumped on the ice where Stephen had cut it off. Stephen held up the granite stone he had pulled from the cave. It was shaped like a sword. Oisín realised it was the source of the orange glow he’d seen earlier.

The Morrígan looked at it with furious eyes. Oisín was sure she was going to raise another tentacle to attack, but she seemed to decide otherwise, and slunk off into the shadows.

Stephen stood staring at the stone in his hand in confusion.

‘Get her,’ Antimony said, looking at the shadows into which the Morrígan had disappeared.

Stephen shook himself and ran towards the archway. Before he could get through, he crashed into somebody coming out.

‘Cassandra!’ he said, steadying her.

Cassandra Quicksilver looked very dazed and her beautiful face was more worried than ever.

‘What happened?’

‘Later,’ Stephen said, heading for the archway again.

This time he ran into Mrs Fitzfeather, who looked almost as worried as Cassandra.

‘What’s all this business, boy?’

‘It was the Morrígan,’ Antimony said, looking over at the spot on the ice where the tentacle had already dissolved into black dust.

Mrs Fitzfeather pulled her shawls around herself as if she was the one who needed protection.

‘No! That can’t be possible! The Morrígan couldn’t have been here.’

‘I’m afraid she could. You know the kind of deep magic these caves hold.’

It was Madame Q, emerging suddenly out of the shadows. Oisín wondered how long she had been standing there. She stared at him with her strange silver eyes.

‘You made a snowstorm in this cavern?’

Oisín nodded.

‘Without the Book of Magic?’

Oisín could see her searching the magical air for the Book’s presence. He nodded.

‘That’s very advanced magic,’ Madame Q said carefully, unsure if this was a good thing. Her eyes swivelled over to Stephen.

‘Where did you get that?’ she said, looking at his stone sword.

‘It just came out of the wall when –’

Stephen stopped, hearing footsteps behind them. Instinctively, he stretched out his arm, holding out the sword and its surprisingly sharp point.

‘New toy? I’d have thought you might be too old for that kind of thing.’

‘Lysander, stop!’

Lysander turned around and saw his sister beside him. He smiled.

‘Nobody told me we were having a party. Bit chilly, though. Perhaps I should magic up a fire?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Madame Q said curtly.

Oisín wondered how they had all happened to be so close to the cavern and yet none of them had come while the Morrígan was attacking him and Antimony.

‘What is that?’ Cassandra said, walking over to look at Stephen’s sword. She caught her breath. ‘No, it can’t be.’

‘It is,’ Madame Q said with a grim smile. An Freagarach.’

Oisín saw the confusion on Stephen’s face. ‘It’s the lost sword from the Dagda’s cauldron,’ he said slowly.

‘The sword that can cut through any enemy,’ Antimony said in awe.

Lysander’s eyes flared with envy. An Freagarach is one of the most magical items that exists. That lunk couldn’t have just found it.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ Stephen’s voice was level, but An Freagarach was stretched out, its tip resting against Lysander’s chest.

‘Try it,’ Lysander said with a twinkle in his eyes.

‘Stop it!’ Madame Q said irritably, parting the two of them with a quick flick of her wrist. ‘That sword is not to be trifled with. It could change everything.’

‘It could kill the Morrígan,’ Stephen said in a strange voice, looking down at his new sword.

‘It could kill everybody,’ Mrs Fitzfeather said in a worried tone. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good … Cassandra!’

Everybody turned to where Cassandra had fallen on the floor. For a terrible second, Oisín thought she had brushed against An Freagarach.

‘She’s having a prophecy!’ Mrs Fitzfeather said. She looked around the cavern as if seeing it for the first time. ‘We’re in the Pool of Prophecy. That’s why the magic is so strong. We can’t let her get to the water, you know the charge it has.’

Madame Q seemed to have the opposite opinion.

‘Lysander, help her,’ she said quickly, cutting a small circle in the ice with a flick of her fingers. The shadow-fish had all disappeared and the clear water gleamed. Lysander eased his sister in, supporting her arms on the ice. Cassandra closed her eyes as the water wrapped around her body.

‘Get her out of there,’ Mrs Fitzfeather barked.

‘No, we have to hear the prophecy,’ Madame Q said firmly. ‘Lysander, hold her.’

Lysander gripped onto his sister as she started to shake. Oisín wondered if Mrs Fitzfeather wasn’t right. Whatever was happening to Cassandra didn’t seem very pleasant. After a moment she stopped shaking. Her face was completely blank and her eyes had turned silver. The words came out in a low, flat tone:

Calamity creaks towards us

A shadow passes across the land

Woe will circle woe before the crash of corn

Brother will fight brother, siblings sunder

The children of the golden hair will split

The dearest of the deer will be lost

War rears its head

Good and evil fade, strong fights stronger

The six that will not be found shake free

What would be kept must be given away

The Queen of Shadows –

‘That’s enough!’

Mrs Fitzfeather pushed Lysander out of the way and gripped Cassandra. She was surprisingly strong and had Cassandra out of the water in seconds. Cassandra coughed, her face returning to normal.

‘You should never interrupt a prophecy!’ Madame Q said in a terse voice.

‘Teenagers shouldn’t be giving prophecies,’ Mrs Fitzfeather flared.

‘She’s my Quint!’

‘And she’s my responsibility!’

For perhaps the first time, Oisín could see why Mrs Fitzfeather was the Captain of Eachtra.

‘Or perhaps you’re afraid what the prophecy will reveal.’ Madame Q said, looking at Mrs Fitzfeather curiously.

‘I don’t have to listen to prophecies to know how to lead my life,’ Mrs Fitzfeather responded.

A series of glances passed between the two old women and Oisín was sure a lot was being communicated. It was Lysander who broke the silence.

‘Maybe next time you can try something cheerier, sis? Perhaps something about kittens?’

Nobody laughed. Oisín looked at Stephen swirling An Freagarach through the air, as if it were an extension of his arm. He felt a chill pass through him. Oisín hadn’t understood most of Cassandra’s prophecy, but a couple of words rattled in his head. Brother will fight brother. Siblings sunder. Before the crash of corn. The Lughnasa Festival was approaching with its harvest.

Oisín gulped. Whatever trouble the prophecy told of, it was coming soon.